My supervisor interrupted a meeting to announce every single thing wrong with my magazine page. In front of everyone, she ticked down a list of errors I hadn't written in—each spacing issue, each misplaced word she pointed out had wormed their way onto the page after it left my desk and before I had been given the chance to correct them. Not one to trade blow-by-embarrassing blow, I took my public shaming in stride, simply nodding along—until she relayed she'd belittled my ability, not just the errors, to my boss. "He wasn't very happy that you didn't catch these mistakes," she spit out as our audience looked on. "I wish you would have come to me first before my boss," I said, "so that I could have explained the page hadn't come back to my desk yet," I calmly defended myself. But as I completed the sentiment, she stormed out of the conference room and into her office, slamming her door with such force our coffee mugs shook on the table. She didn't speak to me for a week. Office bullies can be as catty, cruel, and cutting as the mean girls we faced in high school. Only these women